Cracked
by MapleTreeway
Summary: "Oh what, this? I borrowed it from Russia." In which Italy mentally cracks. Or so the Nations think, but perhaps this is his real side? Snapped!Italy, somewhat Dark!Hetalia, and multiple chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! So welcome to my Hetalia FanFic! It's basically about Snapped/Yandere/2P!Italy because he's so much fun to write like that. Don't like, don't read, rating may go up depending on how the story progresses. It's set in the future so I don't screw up history. Blah blah blah now go read and review please!**

**Summary: "Oh what, this? I borrowed it from Russia." In which Italy mentally cracks. Or so the Nations think, but perhaps this is his real side? Snapped!Italy.**

**Disclaimer: Na-uh. Zip zero. Do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

Chapter 1: How It All Began

* * *

_After a World Meeting…_

_(Germany's POV)_

* * *

"Germany! Germany!" Italy called to the Nation, running up to him in the hallway.

"_Ja_?" Germany responded, looking at his best friend. Something seemed off about the brunette country today, there was some sort of aura that radiated from him that had never _ever_ been there before. Something that reminded the blonde of Russia, which was strange because as far as he knew Italy hadn't ever socialized with Russia other than in the World Meetings.

"Would you like to have dinner at my place?" Italy asked.

"What?"

"Have dinner. At my place. In my house."

"Sure, but what about Roman –" Germany was cut off by the smaller Nation.

"Romano is going to be at Spain's," Italy told him, somewhat tensely, eyes narrowing.

_How did I miss them being open? _The German asked himself. So not to offend the Italian, he put his hands up in surrender and said, "Alright. I'll come, sorry if I upset you, Feli."

There was no usual blush from Feliciano when his human nickname was used. "Good. Bring Prussia." Was all he said as he turned around and briskly marched off the other way.

Germany just watched his friend walk away. "_Das war seltsam_," He muttered before heading off to his own house.

But not before running into Prussia unexpectedly. _"Scheiß, Preußen!"_ Germany cursed papers and folders flying everywhere.

Prussia grinned wickedly at him. "_Hallo_ West!" He cackled. "I see you got to talk to your boyfriend today!"

"He is _not_ my boyfriend!"

"But you want him to be." The albino waggled his eyebrows.

"_Mein Gott,_ you've been hanging out far too long with France. What are you even doing here?" Germany reprimanded, collecting his stuff from off the floor.

Prussia leaned against the wall arrogantly. "France_ is_ my friend you know. _Und_ besides, can't the most awesome person on Earth come to a World Meeting now and then?"

"Well he can't if he's not a country anymore."

"_Halt den Mund, Westen!_" The other German exclaimed, his face growing red. "I'm still awesome!"

Germany, having collected his things, simply shrugged and said, "Fair enough, but the Meeting ended so you kind of missed this one."

"Geez West, since when did you become such a smartass? I _know_ the meeting ended! Kesesese!"

"Mhm sure, Prussia, whatever you say. Let's just go home, _ja_?"

The two brothers walked in silence for a bit down the corridor and when they reached the door, they found it was raining outside. This was typical because the World Meeting was held in London, England this time, and everyone knows that it practically rains there most of the time. So Germany opened his umbrella and was about to walk out when he noticed that Prussia didn't seem to make a move to go outside. Rather, the albino was shooting the rain a dirty look. Germany sighed and turned to his brother. "Let me guess, you don't have an umbrella?" He guessed tiredly.

"An umbrella? Kesesese! Who do you take me for, West? I'm awesome, so I don't need some umbrella to keep me dry from the rain! Awesome people don't get wet!" Prussia declared, offended that his brother would even think that.

"_Ja_ well, Italy invited us for dinner at his house later _und_ I don't think it's a good idea if you were to get sick…"

Prussia huffed and opened up the door. "Watch me _und_ weep, loser!" He said before striding outside in the rain towards his car.

Germany shook his head. _It's going to be a long afternoon,_ he thought before going outside.

* * *

_At Italy's House…_

_(Italy's POV)_

* * *

"_Fratello, Ti posso chiedere qualcosa?_" North Italy asked South Italy, who was doing a word search on the couch. The World Meeting had ended two hours ago and the brothers had used the Nation Path to go home instead of the normal way. This let them get home faster so Italy had more time to prepare for Prussia and Germany's visit later on in the day.

Only, Romano didn't know they were coming over.

"What is it?" Romano acknowledged. "This better be good, jerk."

"Oh _sì_. I was just wondering, if, um, well…" North Italy kicked at the rug sheepishly.

"Spit it out already!"

"Am I annoying?"

The question hit the older Italian like a ton of bricks, it was so unexpected, and so he didn't say anything. Annoying? His _Fratello_? He could be…at times…but weren't all brothers? And why did he ask him that? Since when did North Italy care? Was it because of that potato-bastard? That thought put Romano in a sour mood and he started imagining ways to seriously injure the German, but the thoughts were interrupted when North Italy waved a hand in front of his face calling out, "Romano? Romano are you alright? Stop staring at me like that! _Romano!"_

Something in North Italy's tone caused South Italy to snap out of it. _Did he just – he didn't – did he seriously just command me to do something?_ Cosa diavolo? _Come to think of it, he's been acting strange lately…But for him to use that tone…_"W-What?" Romano stuttered, reeling back like he had just been slapped.

"Am I annoying?" The commanding tone was gone now, replaced with the usual.

_Must have just imagined it…_ "Yes you are, _Fratello_."

"Am I stupid?"

"Sometimes…"

"Am I useless?"

"Useless?" Romano thought for a moment. "In war you are."

"Am I innocent?" North Italy inquired; his eyes were open now, but they were cold and menacing.

"In-Innocent?" Romano backed up even farther from his brother. True, North Italy hardly ever got upset or mad, but when he was it was frightening. It was usually over some pasta, but there was that one time where South Italy had insulted Germany so much that North Italy had snapped at him. And his eyes had been open when that had happened, and they had looked exactly like they were now.

"Do I come across as innocent?"

"Y-yes. Why do you a-"

Suddenly Romano was cut off; the barrel of a gun was pressed to his temple and he felt his brother pull him into a headlock. "Chigi!" He yelped. "What the hell is this for, bastard?!"

"What do I come across as now, _Fratello_?"North Italy snarled.

"_Fottuto pazzo. _Now let me go! Chigi!"

"No. You're in my way, South Italy." There was a click before North Italy continued. "And I can't have that. _Così_ _ci vediamo all'inferno_."

BANG!

* * *

_Later In Italy's House…_

_(Germany's POV)_

* * *

Germany walked up with Prussia to the Italy Brothers' front porch. He found it odd that Italy had invited him over on such short notice, usually it was a few days in advance. Not that he minded of course, it was just of odd behavior for the little Italian. To be quite frank, Italy had been behaving strangely all week! He opened his eyes more often, greedily taking in everything he saw; he had become a little bit more distant, never went out of his way to converse with anyone; and he had this creepy aura on him, that damn creepy aura that resembled Russia's in more ways than not. In truth it was staring to freak out Germany a little bit.

Just a little.

Prussia lifted his hand to knock on the wooden door when it was flung open by a smiling Italy. "Oh good, you're here!" the Italian exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Germany noticed how the "Ve~" was missing. Another thing that seemed odd about Italy and another thing that scared him slightly.

Just slightly.

Prussia cackled and embraced his friend. "Are you kidding?" He replied. "Who would pass up on your awesome cooking?"

North Italy pulled back from the hug and seriously said, "You'd be surprised, a lot would."

"Well screw them _und_ their unawesome asses."

A dangerous look flicked across Italy's face, so fast Germany wasn't even sure if he had actually seen it, before it changed into a smile. "Oh don't be so mean, Prussia!" Italy playfully whacked his friend's arm.

The Prussian just laughed and walked into the house. "Mind if I go to the bathroom, Italy?" He asked.

"No, but do you remember where it is?"

"Uh-huh. The Awesome Me never forgets things!"

Germany snorted silently.

"Alright then, but make sure you wash your hands." Italy told him before turning to the other German.

Prussia rolled his eyes behind the Italian's back before catching his brother's eye and making a heart shape with his hands and pointing at Italy. Germany's glared at him causing the other to snicker and wink before rounding the corner to use the bathroom.

"So Germany," Italy started. "How are you? I haven't gotten to talk to you for a while."

Germany looked at the smaller nation before answering, "I'm fine, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Come on in! In! I've made Gnocchi for dinner, is that okay?"

"_Ja_,_ danke._" Germany felt a blush rising in his face so he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Italy seemed to not notice because he rambled on about stuff as Germany followed him through the house to the kitchen. When they passed the Living Room, something caught the blonde's attention:

A red stain on the couch.

"I-Italy?" He asked timidly, refusing to believe it was what he thought it was.

"_Sì?" _

"W-what is that on the couch?"

Italy looked at piece of furniture, his eyes now open and wide. "Oh, um, that's a Red Wine stain."

"How did it get on the couch?"

"Romano must've tripped and spilled. It happens someti– DON'T GO ANY CLOSER!" Italy yelled as Germany started to walk forward to investigate.

The guest stopped and turned around to see an enraged and shaking host. "_Es tut mir leid, Italien."_ He apologized.

"Just. Don't. Go. Any. Closer." Italy trembled, some anger leaving his red face.

Just then Prussia ran in from the hallway and caught sight of the whole scene. "What the hell?" He exclaimed. "What happened here? I heard yelling - And why is there a red stain on–"

"It's nothing, _Bruder_," Germany interrupted him and switched to German to explain better without getting Italy more upset. _"Ich habe einfach nur guttut einige Begrenzungen mit Italien, das ist alles."_

"Ah." A look passed throughout Prussia's face like that explained everything. Then he smirked and asked, "_Und was haben jene Grenzen, Bruder?"_

Germany turned red with embarrassment and mumbled, "_Ich erkläre es dir später."_ Then he switched to English. "Just don't go near the couch, alright?"

His brother nodded, still smirking.

By this time, Italy had calmed down and was internally grateful that Germany had told Prussia not to go near the couch. He didn't want them to know the truth yet, that would be for later after he had gotten them to agree to something. Yes, he had this all planned out and he would make sure that this would work out – or die trying. "Why don't we go off to the kitchen?" Italy proposed using a cheerful tone. "We can each have something to drink and catch up."

"Sure, sounds great," Prussia agreed, walking alongside the Italian towards the kitchen. "I haven't seen you in forever, kesesese!"

"I'm fairly certain that 'forever' doesn't mean two weeks, Prussia." Germany pointed out behind them.

"Shut up, West, don't be such a spoil-sport. That's incredibly unawesome."

"Sorry."

The evening passed by without any more fights and yelling, the dinner was good and once everything was cleared away the three started conversing with each other while having a bottle of wine. Germany still felt guilty about the couch fiasco, though. Somehow he had made Italy snap and yell at him, and that had _never_ happened before. Come to think of it, he'd never seen Italy snap before; he was usually so easy-going and cheerful with the temper of Japan. So why had he snapped when he had gone closer to the sofa to take a look at the Red Wine? If it was just Red Wine then what was so –

_Oh mein Gott, _Germany realized. _Is he hiding something from me? Was that _blood_? _

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The more it seemed to make sense, the more he grew frightened of his friend. The more frightened he grew of his friend, the more panicked he became. The more panicked he became –

_Calm down Germany. Pull yourself together and don't hyperventilate. Italy doesn't like bloodshed so why would he have a bloodstain on the couch? Calm down, see how they're shooting you looks?_ He rationalized.

It was true; Prussia and Italy were now shooting him worried looks. "Are you okay?" They both said in unison.

"I-I'm fine," Germany responded shakily.

"Do you need a glass of water?" The brunette suggested, standing up to go and get it.

The blonde shook his head. "I think I just need some fresh air."

Italy sat back down with a worried face. "Are you sure?"

Germany stood up trying not to clutch his now throbbing forehead. "_Ich bin sicher._" He answered in German. Then he gave a weak smile. "Sorry."

"No don't apologize. Go get some air; it'll make you feel better."

The tall Nation went off to go do that.

Prussia just watched him go. "_Ja_, he gets like that sometimes. Most times it's because of remembering World War II, other times it's because he's faced with some difficult emotional baggage, _und_ sometimes it's because he over thinks things." He shook his head. "Kesesese, it worries me."

"Should we follow him?" Italy asked.

"_Nein_, he'll come back in five minutes or so, 'cause he's now mastered the ability to clear his unawesome head. Besides, we have some things to talk about."

"What things?"

"It's in regards to your relationship with Germany."

Italy just looked at Prussia like he was nuts. "We're best friends, what's to tell?"

Prussia looked intently at Italy's brown eyes. _I didn't know that they had some violet in them,_ he thought absently. "Kesesese, you're hopeless. Both of you."

Something in the Italian's eyes flickered dangerously, before being covered in a mask of indifference. "We're not completely hopeless," he responded icily.

"Geez Italy, don't take it the wrong way! I just meant that it's time one of you grew a spine _und_ asked the other out already!"

"_Che cosa?"_

Prussia just grinned wickedly. "Yep! Knowing my_ bruder_, he probably won't for a while. So why don't you hurry it up, Italy?"

"No."

"Aww c'mon!"

"_No."_

"Why?"

"I'm not – I'm not _ready_ –"

"'I'm not ready' my ass! You two are perfect for each other!"

Italy grew quiet for a few seconds and stared at the table. "Do you really think so?" He asked in a whisper slowly.

Prussia threw back his head and laughed. "Kesesese! As if there wasn't anything the Awesome Me could be more sure of!"

And suddenly he felt his hand be pinned to the table by the Italian's smaller one. Said Italian's eyes were cold and hard and _right up close to his._ "I already told you," Italy hissed. "I said no, I'm not ready."

And then just as quick he was back in his regular position, across the table with a wine glass carelessly in hand and looking at him. _What the hell was that? _Prussia thought with wide eyes. "O-okay…I-I'm sorry for – for pushing the topic," he apologized in a stammer because his heart rate was pumping faster than usual.

"It is fine," Italy waved his hand dismissively. "It's in the past, _sì_?"

"I –I guess so…kesesese…"

They lapsed into a silence for a short time before Germany came back in. "Sorry about that," he apologized once again. When he noticed the heavy atmosphere, he asked, "What was going on?"

"Nothing," Italy and Prussia said at the same moment.

"Alright…"

"Hey Germany," Italy started.

"_Ja?" _Germany responded.

"We're friends, no?"

"_Ja,_ we're friends. Why do you ask?"

"And Prussia," the Italian turned to the other German. "We're also friends, no?"

"_Ja, wir sind_ _Freunde_," Prussia answered, now calmed down.

"And as friends, we'll stick by each other, right? Through thick and thin?"

"_Ja._" Both Germans answered simultaneously.

"No matter what?" Italy pressed.

"Through thick or thin, no matter what, we'll stick by you."

Italy smiled. "Good," he said. "I'll hold you to it."

_And if you don't, you'll have hell to pay; _he thought cruelly, looking at the German Brothers.

This plan was going better than expected.

* * *

**Translations (I used an Internet translator, so if you see any mistakes please tell me and I'll correct it! Thanks):**

_(__**German**__)_

_Ja _**- Yes**

_Das war seltsam. - _**That was strange.**

_Scheiß, Preußen! – _**Shit, Prussia!**

_Hallo_ **– Hello**

_Mein Gott_ **– My God**

_Halt den Mund, Westen!_ **– Shut up, West!**

_Und _**– And**

_Ja, danke _– **Yes, thank you.**

_Es tut mir leid, Italien _**– I'm so sorry, Italy**

_Bruder _**– Brother**

_Ich habe einfach nur guttut einige Begrenzungen mit Italien, das ist alles. _**– I just overstepped some boundaries with Italy, that's all.**

_Und was haben jene Grenzen, Bruder? _**– And what were those boundaries, Brother?**

_Ich erkläre es dir später. _**– I'll tell you later.**

_Ich bin sicher _**– I'm sure.**

_Nein __**–**_** No**

_Ja, wir sind Freunde. _**– Yes, we are friends.**

_(__**Italian**__)_

_Fratello, TI posso chiedere qualcosa?_ – **Brother, can I ask you something?**

_Sì _– **Yes**

_Fratello _**- Brother**

_Cosa diavolo? _**– What the hell?**

_Fottuto pazzo _**– F*****g insane.**

_Così ci vediamo all'inferno _**– So see you in Hell.**

_Mio dio _– **My god**

_Che cosa?! _**– What?!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: HOLY CRAP THANKS YOU FOR THE REVIEWS FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS! I'm sorry if I can't reply to you peeps, it's nothing personal it's just cuz I had an incident a while back and now I'm a little wary with strangers over the Internet. So now I don't use my PM thing. Sorry! I can reply to you guys in here though, if you want.**

**This is kind of an important filler chapter *dodges bullet* But I promise next chapter things will get going and heat up. Please don't hurt me! I have the Bad Touch Trio in here, but it's my first time writing them…*dodges another bullet***

**My dad also wrote a few paragraphs in here (the first five paragraphs of Spain's POV) because he wanted to so I'll credit him for it. The rest I wrote.**

**Disclaimer: NNNEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN!**

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Chapter 2: If Truth Be Told

* * *

_One Week Later..._

_(Prussia's POV)_

* * *

_Ring! _

"Mnn," Prussia grumbled into his pillow. _Damn that stupid phone_, he thought, _waking me up in the morning._

_Ring!_

"Maybe I should just ignore it." He said into his black and white checkered pillow.

_RING! RING! RING!_

The albino promptly face planted the mattress as he threw the poor pillow over his head in vain attempt to block out the dreadful sound.

_Ring!_ There was a click signaling the caller that no one was picking up before the voicemail woman said, "_Leider, aber dieser Aufruf wurde auf einem automatischen Anrufbeantworter weitergeleitet worden. __Sie könnten auflegen und versuchen Sie es erneut oder wählen Sie ein für weitere Optionen. __Vielen Dank."_

The house phone that was located by Prussia's nightstand stopped ringing after that, and the albino was eternally grateful. "_Gott sei Dank!_" He exclaimed. "Now I can go back to sl –"

But he was cut off when his cell phone's ringtone started playing. "OH HELL NOOO!" Prussia yelled, sitting up and picking up the damn thing to check the caller I.D. It was Spain, of course, because only Spain would be stupid enough to wake up the albino via the phone. _Should I ignore it? He could be just prank calling me like he always does. What a _Trottel_, waking me up in the morning! He's so going to get it…_

"Damn you Spain!" Prussia spat into the cell phone after picking it up. "Do you realize what time it is?! Kesesese!"

"Good morning to you too, Prussia. And I know what time it is _mi amigo_." Spain's voice said through the phone.

"Hell yeah you should! It's six-thirty in the morning! What the hell is wrong with you, waking the Awesome Me up?!"

"Everything! Listen, Prussia, I need to ask you something."

Prussia calmed down a bit (although he was still extremely peeved) when he heard his friend's worried voice. He sighed before saying, "Well might as well fire away now that I'm up."

"_¡Oh, gracias, Prusia!"_ Spain thanked, sounding a ton relieved.

"Tch, don't mention it. So what's up?"

"Listen, you were at Italy's last week, right?"

"_Ja._ Why do you ask?"

"Did you see Romano there at all?"

The German groaned and lay back down on his messy king sized bed before looking up at the white ceiling. All he thought was how typical this was of Spain and how much he wanted to go back to sleep and why he was asked this stupid question _now_ instead of _later. _And because he had just been so rudely woken up, his brain was still foggy from sleep so the red alarms weren't going off yet_._ "Kesesese, is this the question you woke me up for?"

"Yes."

"Is this vital?"

"Yes."

Prussia huffed and relented, "Fine then, I'll tell you what I know, 'kay?"

"_¡Está bien!"_ Spain cheered on the other side of the line.

"_Ja, ja, es ist in Ordnung."_

"So was he there?" The Spaniard got right to the point.

"_Nein_, North Italy said he was with you, so I didn't…" The German trailed off as the alarms started pounding in his head, causing him to be fully awake.

"Didn't what?"

"HOLY SHIT! You mean to say that he wasn't with you either?!"

"No, like I said I haven't seen him since the…World…Meeting…! _Oh, Dios mío, si él no estaba con nosotros, entonces ¿dónde estaba?"_ Prussia could practically hear Spain hyperventilating on the other side of the line.

"Spain calm down, it's just Romano," Prussia tried to calm his friend down (and though he wouldn't admit it, himself too).

"_Ya lo sé!" _Spain panicked. "But he's my little _tomate_! What if he's in trouble?! What if he hurt himself?!"

"But this is _Romano. _This is _South Italy_. He created the goddamn Mafia, for shit's sake! Do you honestly think just because you haven't seen him for a week he's in trouble or hurt? For all I know, Romano could've just told Feli that he was at your place so he could go somewhere else."

"B-But…" A sigh gave way to a short pause. Just as Prussia was sure Spain had hung up, there came a timid question. "Prussia, do you promise not to tell anyone – not even France – what I'm going to tell you?"

"_Ja _sure wh –"

"I'm serious, Prussia. You can't tell _anyone._" Spain's tone was dead serious.

Prussia gulped and sat up, one hand clutching the cell phone, the other clutching the wrinkled checkered bed sheets. "Alright…" He agreed warily.

"Roma and I are dating."

The albino nearly dropped the phone. His red eyes widened in shock and he just stared at the Prussian Flag that hung on the wall opposite of him. "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"What. The. Fuc-"

"_Sí, sí, _I know what you're thinking but please! You have to help me! This isn't normal; the most he's ever been away from me was five days. And that was when he was extremely angry! But he wasn't angry with me at the World Meeting or before! _Oh mi dios que no sé qué más hacer, Prusia!_ I've tried everything and I still don't know where he is!" By now Spain was in hysterics so much that Prussia could actually hear him sobbing through the cell phone.

"Kesesese, pull yourself together Spain! I'll be over at your place in an hour or two to help you. Is that okay?" The albino said.

"…_Sí_…"

"_Gut. Wir sehen uns in einer Stunde." _ Prussia then hung up, got out of the bed, threw on his clothes, and started heading to the bathroom upstairs so he could get refreshed.

On his way there, he passed Germany in the kitchen, who just looked at him with wide, blue, disbelieving eyes. "Am I seeing things?" He wondered out loud, setting down his cup of coffee on the wooden table.

Prussia rolled his eyes at his younger brother. "_Nein." _

"So this really is _mein älterer Bruder Preußen, _up on a _Saturday morning _at _seven _and not _twelve_?"

"Shut up, West. Yes it's the Awesome Me graciously offering my awesome self to the unawesome world's eyes at seven in the morning. Deal with it."

"_Aber warum?"_ Germany asked, still surprised, as he walked to the refrigerator to get out some jam and butter.

"Does it really matter? Kesesese!" Prussia exclaimed, leaning against the wall as he watched his brother. When he was asked if he wanted any breakfast, he wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"But this is strange of you. You usually sleep half the day."

"_Ja, _well today Spain needs my awesome assistance on something today _und_ I was just about to get ready until you butted your unawesome head in my business."

Germany arched his eyebrow and stared at his brother from across the neat kitchen. He was dressed in soccer shorts and a soccer t-shirt that read _Deutschland_ on the back, so Prussia guessed he was going to go play some soccer with a few of his friends. His hair hung loose today and his blue eyes seemed warmer than usual but had determination in them. Overall he looked about as carefree and unserious as he possibly could. "_Nun entschuldigen Sie mich, wenn ich es seltsam, dass mein älterer Bruder früh aufwacht finden!" _He defended.

Prussia just glared at him. "_Fick dich._"

Germany just chuckled.

"So are you going to play some _Fußball _or something, West?"

"Look who's butting into other people's business now ~."

"_Halt den Mund! _I'm your older _Bruder_; I have a right to know!"

The younger German Brother just rolled his eyes before answering, "_Ja,_ _ich werde Fußball spielen gehen._"

"With who?" Prussia prodded, folding his arms over his chest. It's not like he cared or anything, because that was totally unawesome, it's just that wanted to get even on his _Bruder _by being nosy back. Yeah, that was it. Totally not giving a damn…

"America. The _Dummkopf_ honestly thought he was better at the sport than me. So I challenged him."

"Getting a little cocky now, aren't we, _Westen_?" The albino teased, walking out of the kitchen. "Too bad I can't play; I'd kick both of your asses into next week, kesesese!" He called over his shoulder.

"HEY!" Germany shouted from back within the room, causing Prussia to cackle all the way to the bathroom.

* * *

_One Hour Later…_

_(Spain's POV)_

* * *

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Spain put down his cup of tea on the kitchen counter before sprinting to the door. He hoped it would be Prussia, or Romano, either one was perfectly fine by him. Oh, how he yearned to see his little _tomate. _Spain's house felt so big and empty without his little _tomate_.

Spain could hear his feet pound under him as he made his way through the many corridors leading to the front door…

Knock, knock, KNOCK, KNOCK!

…Skidding to a halt in front of the large majestic wooden door, Spain's nose pressed upon the splinters on the door. "Who's there?" He asked warily, not daring to breathe.

"It's the Awesome Me, helping your unawesome butt to get your Romano back." Prussia's voice sounded from the other side.

"Prussia?"

"Yes, now open up this damn door! Kesesese!"

Spain nearly laughed in relief as he turned the doorknob, only to see a furious Prussia. Said ex-country was standing outside on the porch absolutely drenched in rainwater wearing nothing more than white shorts and a black T-shirt. His arms were crossed over his chest and he just looked at the Spaniard in annoyance. Spain had to bite back laughter. "Well? Can I come in?" He asked after a moment.

"_S-Sí." _The brunette answered, stepping back to make room for the albino.

The second the door closed, Prussia exclaimed, "You _fucker_! You didn't tell me it was raining! Kesesese, now I'm all wet!"

Spain laughed, forgetting Romano for a second. "_¡Lo siento!_ I wasn't paying attention to the weather, _mi amigo. _Otherwise I would have!"

"Stop laughing, I could go back to my house right now, kesesese!"

Spain gave another round of laughter before turning around and walking to a cabinet that stood nearby in the foyer. He opened up the white doors and retrieved a big towel that had the Spanish Flag printed on it before going back to his friend and handing him it. The albino just glared as he took the towel and began drying himself off. "Do you need any spare clothes? I don't want you to get sick," the brunette asked, watching him.

"'Mfn." came the muffled reply from under the towel as the white-haired man dried his hair.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"I'm fine. The Awesome Me never _ever_ gets sick!" Prussia clarified, wrapping himself up in the towel so he could get warm.

"Don't jinx it or anything, Prussia. You still need to help me find Roma."

"_Want." _Prussia corrected Spain._ "_Not need. So what've you tried so far?"

"I've checked his Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, Instagram, and all other Internet accounts which was completely _inútil_. I've called him numerous times, texted him also, and he never answers! Ugh! I. Do. Not. Know. Any. More!" Spain held his head in his hands in frustration.

Prussia laughed and he put a hand on Spain's shoulder. "_Idioten._"

"Excuse me?"

"You are an idiot,_ mein Freund_. He could have his Internet shut off –"

"For a week?"

"Tch, happened to West and I one time, why not him? Plus he might've lost his phone or some other crazy shit happened. That is why you need my awesome assistance in doing it the old way!" Prussia grinned cockily at Spain.

"Old way…?" Spain just looked at his friend confused.

"_Ja_ the old fashioned way, _Spanien_. It's called, 'Getting-Your-Lazy-Ass-Outta-The-House-_Und_-Do-More-Research-Than-America's-FBI'."

"Funny, I've never heard that befor-"Spain started to say dubiously.

"Of course you haven't – the Awesome Me just made it up!" Prussia cut Spain off. "Listen, do you have binoculars and other spy stuff?"

Spain looked off to the side and thought for a while before nodding slowly. "I think so…but how will this get back Romano?"

And suddenly Prussia's fingers were holding his chin delicately, forcing the brunette to look at him. Wide green eyes met calm red eyes and for a second Spain forgot how to breathe. They stood like that for a moment before Prussia leaned in and whispered against his ear, "Trust me, _mein Freund_. It'll help because…" he withdrew and smirked before going on, "we are going to go incognito!"

Spain blinked a few times trying to wrap his mind around what happened. "Incognito…?" He repeated slowly.

His friend just nodded proudly.

"And how is this going to work?"

"Well, we track down your little _Tomaten_ using the awesome spy stuff _und_ then kick whoever kidnapped Romano's ass! Isn't it a brilliant plan? Kesesese…"

Spain brightened up a little when he heard that. "_Sí_. Let me go get the spy equipment. I'll be right back!"

He then turned and ran down a corridor to the right of where he and Prussia had been standing. _I'm going to get Roma back! I'm going to get Roma back! _He chanted in his head, smiling despite himself. After a few minutes of twisting and turning and running, he slowed to a jog checking each doorknob. All the doorknobs were brass and circular except for the door that led to the Top Secret Spy Equipment. That doorknob was oval and needed a special key to be opened, which only Spain and his boss had.

Finding the doorknob at the very middle of the long hallway, Spain looked left and right to make sure Prussia hadn't followed before taking the key out from a pocket that he had stitched into his jeans. The key was made of pure silver and small, with a ruby on the handle. It had the words _Clave de España_ engraved on its side so people knew who to return it to if he might've accidently dropped it when he went drinking with Prussia or France.

The Spaniard put the special key in the lock before turning it clockwise.

_Click!_

The door unlocked and Spain went inside. Inside the room were selves and selves of spy equipment and high tech computers. Not to mention plenty of guns ranging from pistols to machine guns of the highest degree of danger. No one but Spain and his boss ever set foot in this room – not even Romano – so there were also various cobwebs hanging from the ceiling corners and the room smelled damp. The brunette didn't care about any of it; he just grabbed a bag before filling it with binoculars, guns, ammo, walkie-talkies, a laptop, and other stuff he thought might need. Oh yes, he and Prussia were going all out to save his little _tomate _from the bastard that even thought to lay a finger on Romano. That bastard was going to pay big time, Spain would make sure of that.

After a few minutes, said country nodded content with what he had packed and started to head out before he remembered something. Dropping the bag, he walked to the glass case that held his axe weapon and unlocked it, pulling the weapon out. It was old, used, and unsharpened, but Spain didn't care. This baby could strike more fear in an enemy if it was in his hands than any gun, because those that knew him during his Armada Years knew not to screw with him if this was present. _"Ahora estoy listo," _he said ominously before going back to retrieve his bag and leaving the room.

When he got back to Prussia, his friend took one look at the axe weapon and Spain's dark face before he gulped and said shakily, "Um Spain…"

"Yes?" Spain replied innocently, tilting his head to the side.

"Y-you realize t-that if we drag the axe weapon along w-we would draw more attention to ourselves, right?"

"Is that so?"

"_J-ja…_"

"Well then France had better run for his damn life!"

Prussia's eyes grew wide. "France?! Are you fucking insane?!"

"No. He kidnapped Romano, I _know _it. He's _always_ wanted Roma and now he has him! Who knows what he's doing right now!" Spain's usually cheerful green eyes were dark and stormy now. He looked like he wanted to kill someone, and Prussia could only guess who (the first country that came to mind was France).

"Oi, Spain! Don't blow your top! It's only been a week, what if Romano's just incredibly busy or something?"

"Since when has Roma made an effort to work?"

"Um, well, er, there was that one time where you were sick _und_ he tried to care for you while he had his own cold. He stuck up to the Mafia for you just so you could feel better. _Und_ that other time where he was trying to outdo _mein Bruder _so Veneziano could stay with him instead. Or –"

"Alright I get it, Prussia!" Spain yelled. "But I still want to check France, so let's go!"

He then slung the bag over his shoulder and transferred the axe weapon to one hand so his other hand could be free to drag his albino friend out the door and to France's.

* * *

_Half-An-Hour Later…_

_(France's POV)_

* * *

BANG!

France woke up from where he was lying on the white couch in the foyer to his front door being smashed to smithereens. He let out a very girly scream before jumping behind the sofa in vain attempt to hide.

"FRANCE, YOU _GILIPOLLAS_, GIVE ME BACK ROMANO!" Spain shouted swinging his axe weapon furiously.

France shot up from the floor. "Romano? I don't –"

He stopped talking when the murderous weapon was at his throat, and suddenly his memories from Spain during his Armada Years came flooding back. He gulped as angry green eyes bore into his own blue ones. "Give. Me. Back. Roma." Spain hissed.

France opened his mouth to tell his friend that he didn't have the hotheaded Italian when Prussia came into the scene. "Kesesese!" He exclaimed. "That was the most badass entrance ever!"

"Prussia not now, I'm busy trying to get back Romano," Spain told his friend, eyes never leaving the Frenchman.

"But France is our friend, our drinking buddy, he knows Romano is off-limits."

"Shut up! He has my little _tomate. _I know it!"

The whole time his two friends were conversing, France studied what Spain was wearing. Said country's clothes comprised of black jeans, black converse, a white flannel shirt, and a plaid-black fedora. It would've made him look pretty hot had the axe weapon not ruined the whole thing. Prussia on the other hand was just wearing white shorts, black Vans, and a black t-shirt, hardly anything to look at. France sighed in disappointment.

"Oi! What was that, bastard?!" Spain rounded on him when he had sighed.

"_Je n'ai rien dit." _France defended coolly. "But I don't have Romano, so can you get your axe weapon out of my face_, s'il vous plaît?_"

"No."

"Aww c'mon, Spain!" Prussia defended France. "He doesn't have Romano, so let him go."

"No."

"Trust him at least, he's our friend!"

"No."

France piped up, "You could search my _maison, _so you can see I don't have him."

The axe weapon lowered slightly as Spain glared at him. "Fine, but if you have him…"

The threat dangled in the air, but France knew the ending of it.

"Alright, let's go then," Prussia said walking down one of the hallways. Spain followed, pushing France in front of him so he could keep an eye on him.

* * *

_2 Hours Later…_

_(France's POV)_

* * *

"Alright he's not here. Can we go now?" Prussia whined as the Trio returned to the foyer.

Spain didn't answer, just sat dejectedly on the white couch, putting his head in his hands. "Where is he?" He asked so softly France and Prussia barely caught it.

But they did and they sat on either side of him, Prussia putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry Spain; it's only been a week, hardly anything. You'll see Romano again soon, don't worry. We'll find him."

France looked questioningly at the two before something clicked. "Ah!" He gasped. "Did Spain ask the hothead out? Are they an _s'accoupler?_"

"_Ja_," the albino answered before Spain could even register what was being said. "And Antonio here hasn't seen Lovino for a week and is completely flipping out."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Prussia answered the same time Spain shouted, "NO!"

France eyed them both suspiciously. Then he smirked and said, "Perhaps you need some help from the country of _amour?"_

"I do not need any help!" Spain denied. Then he turned to Prussia furiously. "You weren't supposed to tell!"

"_¿Cómo dice?" _The ex-country apologized sheepishly in Spanish.

"I have some wonderful tips~." France sing-songed.

"No thank you."

"Especially if Romano's furious at you, then I know exactly what you should do."

"France, since when have any of your tips helped anybody?"

"Plenty of times! I got Russia and China together, did I not?"

"China threw a fit when he realized that he had gotten roped into a date with Russia."

"That's because he was _dans le déni – _one of the first signs of love!" The Frenchman clapped his hands together dreamily.

Spain snorted. "As if, France. As if."

"Well at least now they are together. I saw them kiss last week at the World Meeting!"

"That's because Russia kisses everyone on the lips in greeting, _estúpido._"

"Oh. But I could have sworn that there was tongue-on-tongue contact!"

"Not likely."

"You are just jealous that Romano does not like PDA." France protested smugly.

Spain threw him a death-glare. "Watch it, Frog. He does, when he feels like it."

Prussia cut into the conversation when he saw how things were about to get heated. "So France, what kind of tips do you have in mind?" He asked.

France whipped his head in Prussia's direction. "Well," he started, "_Espagne _here could buy Roses and flowers, show up on South Italy's doorstep, and apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness."

"I think you don't understand the predicament here, France…" Spain said.

France ignored him. "Or he could go right up to him, say, _'Je suis désolé que vous vous sentez horrible pour quelque chose que je n'ai pas fait. Maintenant, embrasse-moi.' _Then he should kiss him and Romano will forgive him immediately!"

Spain and Prussia just looked at their friend like he was nuts. Finally the albino started to laugh at the sheer stupidity of the statement, because for some reason he could _not_ see the hotheaded Romano forgive that easily. Spain just kept staring at France, who had that day-dreamy look on his face like he was imagining some things. Spain didn't even want to know what he was thinking about – especially if it involved his _tomate _– so he just stuttered, "I-I don't even know where he is."

Prussia stopped laughing and looked in disbelief at his friend before standing up and walking to the doorframe. He then crouched down and rummaged through the Spy Bag (that was what he called it) before pulling out the laptop. Then he walked back to the couch and sat back down, wedging himself between France and Spain. "Kesesese," he said, "you've forgotten that we have this awesome spy gear. Now watch as the Awesome Me will find out where Romano is!"

He then pulled up the Internet and got onto Google, where he typed in the search engine:

_Where is South Italy? _

A few seconds later, the results showed links to websites about sightseeing in South Italy as well as maps showing where it was on the world map. Spain face palmed and growled, "You _idiot_. We are _countries _remember?"

"Oh, _ja_…well this is just an unawesome site that doesn't get what I am awesomely trying to ask." Prussia defended, deleting his question before writing in:

_Where is Lovino Vargas?_

"You are using his human name?" France asked, looking at the computer screen.

"Why not? It's bound to give the Awesome Me _something._"

"I feel like you are stalking my boyfriend," Spain said plainly.

"Well excuse me!" Prussia exclaimed, offended, before pushing the "Enter" key.

At once all of the Italian's Internet Accounts came up and Spain jumped a foot in the air in frustration. "See?!" He nearly shouted. "He hasn't been active in a week! This is getting us nowhere!"

"If you ask me you should check his house first before you break anything else, _mon ami_." France suggested.

Spain calmed down a bit. "That sounds like a good idea." He agreed before turning to Prussia. "Prussia, we are going to Romano's house."

"What?!" Prussia exclaimed, looking up from the screen to look at his best friend.

"You heard me."

"Do you want me to go too?" France asked. "Perhaps I can help you with those tips."

Spain shook his head. "No, you stay here. Roma would run away at the sight of you."

"I'm offended!"

"It's true."

Prussia snickered again at France's face. He stopped when he felt himself being dragged out the doorframe. He waved good-bye to his friend before turning to the determined Spain, saying, "You realize Feli's gonna flip, right?"

"Why?"

"Well you have a bigass axe in your hand, plus some guns in the bag. And when we tell him that his brother's missing, he's going to go on a panic attack!"

"Oh. Well, we'll deal with that when we come to it." Was all Spain replied with, not meeting Prussia's eye.

* * *

_1 Hour Later…_

_(Italy's POV)_

* * *

North Italy heard his doorbell ring. He sighed, getting up to go answer it. He really wasn't expecting visitors, but who knew? Maybe it was Germany.

But it wasn't. It was Spain and Prussia standing on his porch. Spain was holding his axe weapon and Prussia holding a bag that looked like it had guns in it.

"_Ciao,_" Italy greeted, eyeing the two warily.

"_Hallo _Italy. We were just wondering if Romano was here today. Or recently." Prussia asked a little bit nervously.

And at the mention of his brother, Italy immediately grew defensive, edgy, distant, and cold. No way in hell was he going to let them find out the truth. "Yes." He answered briskly.

"Oh _gracias a Dios!_" Spain cried out. "May I see him?"

"No. He's not feeling well."

"Did he get sick?"

"No. He just isn't feeling well."

Spain gave Italy the puppy dog eyes, which did absolutely nothing, just made Italy cross his arms against his chest. So he dropped down to his knees and begged, saying, "Oh please please _please_, Italy? I won't hurt him! I just need to see him! He'll probably kick me out anyway! Please?"

Italy looked away at the begging brunette and instead his eyes flicked to the axe weapon, which was leaning against the wall now, to the bulging bag Prussia was holding, before coming up with an answer. "Alright –" He started to stay before being cut off by Spain embracing him.

Spain pulled back, wiping relieved tears from his eyes. "_Gracias, _Italy." He thanked.

The Italian ignored him. "But you have to give me those weapons first."

"Say what?"

"Weapons," his brown and violet eyes bore into Spain's green ones coldly. "You give them to me, you go in. You don't give them to me, you don't go in."

The Spanish man faltered for moment thinking how odd this was for the smaller Italian man. He had not expected this at all; this was the complete opposite of how he had imagined he would be received. But he guessed that Feliciano was just trying to protect his brother, so why shouldn't he give up the weapons? On the other hand, these were some of his favorites or top secret, he couldn't possibly do that! Spain glanced warily at Prussia and caught his also uneasy eyes, before looking back at Italy. "Could," he tried to bargain, "could Prussia stay outside with them?"

Italy looked at him with hard eyes as he replied, "Give me the axe."

"Wh-what?!"

"The axe, _Spagna."_

"W-why do you want my axe weapon?"

"So you don't hurt my _fratello_."

"I would never hurt him!"

Italy reached out one of his hands as he repeated, "Give me the axe."

Spain grabbed his axe weapon and for a second Italy thought he was going to be on the receiving end of a blow. He was proven wrong when Spain reluctantly thrust the weapon into his hands, and for a moment Italy stared in shock. _Isn't this a stroke of luck, _he mused turning it over in his hands before saying, "Alright, go on through."

Spain did as he was told and immediately bounded off towards Romano's room. Prussia made an attempt to follow, but was stopped by Italy. "You can go home now," the Italian ordered.

"What? But I want to –"

"Don't 'but' me! Go home!"

The Prussian reeled back like he had been hit. Italy had never raised his voice. Ever. Well, except that one night Germany had done something stupid relating to the couch. "O-Okay…kesesese…what about the weapons…?"

"I'll make sure that Spain gets them back. Now leave!" Italy told him icily, glaring daggers.

Prussia turned and fled back to France's. He needed to tell his other best friend about this immediately. The Italian watched him run away, smiling sadistically, before turning around and heading back into his house. As soon as the door closed behind him, he heard a blood-curdling scream. "Looks like Spain found Romano~." He sang, tightening his grip onto the axe weapon before climbing the stairs.

What fun he was going to have!

* * *

**Translations (If there's something wrong, let me know and I'll correct it!):**

**(**_**German)**_

_Leider, aber dieser Aufruf wurde auf einem automa__tischen Anrufbeantworter weitergeleitet worden. Sie könnten auflegen und versuchen Sie es erneut oder wählen Sie ein für weitere Optionen. __Vielen Dank. _**- We're sorry, but this call has been forwarded to an automatic voicemail. You could hang up and try again or dial one for more options. ****Thank you.**

_Gott sei Dank _– **Thank goodness!**

_Trottel – _**Moron.**

_Ja, ja, es ist in Ordnung _**– Yes, yes, it's alright.**

_Gut. Wir sehen uns in einer Stunde. _– **Good. ****I'll see you in an hour.**

_mein älterer Bruder Preußen _**– my older brother Prussia**

_Aber warum? – _**But why?**

_Deutschland _**– Germany**

_Nun entschuldigen Sie mich, wenn ich es seltsam, dass mein älterer Bruder früh aufwacht finden! _**- Well excuse me if I find it odd that my older brother wakes up early!**

_Fick dich – _**F**k you**

_Fußball _**- Soccer**

_Dummkopf _**– Stupidhead**

_Idioten _**– Idiot**

_Ja,_ _ich werde Fußball spielen gehen._ **– Yes, I'm going to go play soccer.**

_Westen _**– West**

_Spanien _**– Spain**

_mein Freund _– **My friend**

_Tomaten _– **Tomato**

_Mein Bruder – _**My brother**

_**(Spanish)**_

_Mi amigo_** – My friend.**

_¡Oh, gracias, Prusia! _**– Oh thank you, Prussia!**

_¡Está bien! _**- All right!**

_Oh, Dios mío, si él no estaba con nosotros, entonces ¿dónde estaba? _**- Oh my god if he wasn't with you then where was he?**

_Ya lo sé! _**– I know that!**

_Tomate _**– Tomato**

_Sí, sí _– **Yes, yes**

_Oh mi dios que no sé qué más hacer, Prusia!_** - Oh my god I just don't know what to do anymore, Prussia!**

_¡Lo siento! _– **I'm sorry!**

_Inútil – _**useless/hopeless**

_Clave de España _– **Key of Spain**

_Ahora estoy listo. _**– Now I'm all set.**

_Gilipollas _– **Asshole**

_Gracias a Dios! _**– thank God!**

_Gracias – _**Thank you**

_Estúpido _**– Idiot/Stupid**

_**(French)**_

_Je n'ai rien dit – _**I said nothing.**

_s'il vous plaît? _**– Please?**

_Maison _**– House**

_s'accoupler – _**couple**

_Espagne _– **Spain**

_Mon ami – _**My friend**

_Amour _**– Love**

_Je suis désolé que vous vous sentez horrible pour quelque chose que je n'ai pas fait. Maintenant, embrasse-moi. _- **I'm sorry that you feel horrible for something I didn't do. Now kiss me.**

_Dans le déni _**– In denial**

_**(Italian)**_

_Ciao _**– Hello**

_Spagna _**- Spain**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ollo peoples! How ya'll doin'? Good? Not so good? In between? Well anyway, here's an update for you peeps. Thanks for the constructive criticism and reviews! Hopefully the POV thing is better,** _GoldenNekoLover14**.**_**_  
_**

**Now let the fun commence~!**

**Disclaimer: Pfft hell no.**

**EDIT: I edited the last part of the chapter because it was complete and total shit. So hopefully it's better now ^_^**

* * *

Chapter 3: "Your Misery Is My Goal."

* * *

_One Minute Later..._

_(Italy)_

* * *

Italy shifted the axe weapon to his left hand before easing the door to Romano's room open slowly. It was dark inside; the windows were closed and shaded completely, the lamps and light bulbs were broken, and there were no candles. So the only light in the room was that that shone from the hallway, and even then it wasn't enough to light up the whole room.

Italy loved it.

Said country whipped his head to the right, where Romano's bed lay, as he heard sobbing. He could make out the figure of Spain's body hunched over his brother's dead body through the dim light. Smiling cruelly, he watched for a few minutes as Spain slowly tore to pieces over Romano. Prayers, sobs, cries, screaming, and shouts of, "Romano!" echoed from the Spaniard's mouth in gut-wrenching agony.

Italy relished it.

Tearing his eyes away from the scene, the Italian fingered the axe weapon in his hands. As he ran his finger lightly over the edge of the blade, he realized how dull and somewhat rusty it was. The rust he could care less for, it would make what he wanted to do more enjoyable, but the dull edge was a no-no. He needed it to be sharp!

Quietly, he slipped back into the hallway and closed the door. Then he took out a set of keys and used one to lock the door. Once that was done, he made his way back downstairs to the kitchen, but upon passing the front door he remembered that he had left the other weapons outside. Cursing his stupidity, Italy laid the axe weapon on the banister before opening up the front door and retrieving the bag. If someone had stolen it, he wouldn't know what to do.

Oh wait, yes he would. He would find and _kill_ that person - mercy be damned!

After locking the big, wooden front door so no one would stumble in while he was busy, Italy _finally_ made his way to the kitchen, axe weapon back in hand along with the bag. He threw the bag onto the table carelessly before grabbing a sharpening blade from a drawer beside the sink. Italy studied the blade a bit and when he was satisfied, he started to sharpen the axe weapon.

The minutes passed by with the only sounds in the house being Spain's faraway shrieks and Italy sharpening the blade. The Italian didn't mind, he rather enjoyed the sounds in a weird, sadistic kind of way. But then suddenly he heard the Spanish man grow quiet, so he stopped what he was doing to listen.

One minute passed in pure silence.

Then two.

Then three.

Italy started to grow worried for all the wrong reasons. _Did _Spagna _kill himself? Hopefully he didn't, because then I would have no fun! Did he fall asleep? What happened? I was looking forward to some fun, _he whined in his mind.

After about one more minute of absolutely nothing, Italy sighed and dropped the axe weapon and sharpening knife on the table, replacing it with a six-barrel pistol. He retrieved a handful of bullets from the stash of ammo inside of the bag and loaded the gun before fastening it securely to his belt. When that was done, he walked across the room to a locked drawer, where he got out a key and unlocked it. Inside was a black case and inside the container there was a sharp, long, slightly curved, glimmering knife resting on red velvet.

The knife's blade was made of carbon steel with the exception of the point, which was obsidian. Its handle was made out of micarta and had a red ruby that was placed near the hilt. This baby was sharp, very_ very_ sharp, and could pierce the skin of anything without much effort. Especially skin, although Italy hadn't been able to try it out yet.

Until today.

The Italian smiled fondly at his most prized weapon, he kept it in tip-top shape and cared for it every day, before taking it out and holding it in his hand. Then he made his way with his two choice weapons upstairs to his brother's room again.

Upon entering the room, he found that Spain had cried himself to sleep. His head was buried in Romano's chest as his arms were draped across the body, his knees on the floor. The Spaniard's breathing was deep but uneven due to the grief, and it was apparent that he wasn't going to wake up soon.

Furious that his next victim fell asleep, Italy walked over and gave three good kicks to Spain's side. Instantly, he woke up and clutched his side, moaning in pain.

"Get up!" Italy growled.

When Spain made no move, Italy roughly grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked upwards. "Get _up, _I said!"

Spain stood up sadly and looked at the furious Italian before breaking into more sobbing. "R-Romano-o is d-dead," he stuttered, with his head in his hands.

Italy rolled his eyes in annoyance and impatience. "I _know_ that, _Spagna._"

"H-He's dead and I'm-I'm never going to s-see him alive ag-again! Oh my little _tomate _is gone! Why?"

"He was in the way. Same as you."

Spain looked up from his hands, his green eyes hazy. "W-What?"

Italy grabbed his right hand forcefully and dragged him out of the room instead of answering. Weak protests came from Spain, who tried to get away and back to his beloved. But each time that happened, Italy only made his grip harder on him and twisted his arm further. Eventually the physical struggling was done and was replaced by whimpers, which the Italian ignored as he led them downstairs to the basement.

* * *

_Two Minutes Later…_

_(Spain)_

* * *

Bursting through the door due to irritation and slight anxiousness, Italy flew down the stone steps in haste causing Spain to almost loose his footing. "_I-Italia…_" Spain whimpered, when Italy let go of and walked ahead of him. He was confused why they were down here; it looked like a prison cell because of the chains on the walls and how dark it was.

BANG!

A bullet tore through Spain's shoulder, blood flowing out swiftly. The injured nation gasped and looked at the wound in disbelief, his green eyes wide and clear now. Suddenly everything seemed to make sense: why Romano was gone for a week; Italy's strange behavior; that weird incident Prussia had told him a few days ago that happened between Germany, a stained couch, and Italy; not to mention why Italy refused to let him in with weapons…

_The weapons! If Italy gets them, then I would be screwed!_ Spain shouted in his mind.

Quickly, he looked up again and tried to spot Italy, but he couldn't.

But he did hear a door slowly creaking close, leaving him in pitch darkness.

_Fuck._

Wildly looking left and right, he tried to see something but couldn't. It was all black.

Italy chuckled menacingly in the darkness from somewhere behind him. "Have you figured it out yet, Spain?"

Spain felt something cold whisper across the back of his neck.

Turning around swiftly with Goosebumps rising, he saw nothing. He turned around again when he heard the sound of a match being lit and saw Italy standing on the other side of the room…Or rather only his face, which was illuminated by candlelight and grinning wickedly, his eyes violet and glimmering.

Spain felt the color drain off his face because of how creepy it looked. He didn't even know how his voice could remain steady as he said, "You killed Romano."

Italy's face lit up in the most twisted way. It made the other country sick.

"YOU TWISTED ASSHOLE! HOW DARE YOU! YOU'LL FUCKING PAY!"

BANG!

Another bullet hit Spain as he was charging towards the killer, this time on the knee. "Ah!" He called out in pain, collapsing. How Italy had that much accuracy, he had no clue.

"Oh did that hurt? _Mi dispiace_, my finger slipped on the trigger," Italy apologized, slowly walking over to Spain.

Gritting his teeth, Spain glared at the Italian. "Stop right there, bastard." He ordered.

The other just laughed and continued walking. A few seconds later, he crouched down in front of Spain and set the candle in between them. Violet eyes met green ones and it was a moment before Italy broke into a grin. To say that Spain didn't feel a trickle of fear would be lying. "Did anyone ever tell you how cute you look when you are scared?" Italy cooed, his hand reaching out to cup Spain's cheek.

It was slapped away. "Don't touch me, you _pendejo."_

Anger flashed across Italy's eyes, but he didn't make another move to grab him. "Fine then, _I _won't touch you. This will," Italy said, pulling out a knife.

Spain shrieked when the blade was stabbed into his side. He shrieked harder when Italy pulled it out slowly, almost as if he was taunting him. When it was finally out, Spain clutched his heavily bleeding side as Italy held up the bloody knife against the candlelight.

"Isn't blood pretty?" Italy mused to the injured man. "It's a perfect red!"

Spain said nothing; just shut his eyes to stop tears from falling from the pain.

"You know I asked for your opinion, _Spagna."_

Spain grimaced.

"Are you going to answer or not?"

No comment was made.

There was a silence before a loud scream was heard along with some laughter.

"That's a very good answer Spain, even if I had to burn it out of you. I think I should use it as paint too, but no store sells blood as paint. Hmm…"

Spain cradled his burnt fingers in his other hands, letting the cut in his side bleed out. Italy was studying him creepily, his knife resting against his cheek as he thought. Suddenly he grinned and Spain felt his blood turn to ice. "Spain~" Italy sang, "I think you should help me get some paint~!"

"No! I won't help you!" Spain shouted.

"Oh but you will, otherwise you die."

Green eyes went wide as Italy reached into the darkness by his side and got a large bucket. Grinning, Italy got up with the bucket and knife in hand before sitting right next to the Spaniard. Placing the bucket underneath the cut he had made, he leaned forward with the knife to make the cut deeper so it could bleed out more.

Spain would have none of it though and tried to get away. But Italy was faster and disappeared into the darkness to go and retrieve something. Spain heard a door creak open and close a moment later leaving him in the darkness with nothing more than a candle.

Just a candle.

Just.

A.

_Candle_.

No matches, nothing other than the candle as the source of light.

Being struck with an ingenious idea, Spain leaned over and blew out the candle before painfully crawling as far away as he could. A few moments later, he heard the door open again and Italy walking down. Spain crawled faster, but found himself in a corner just as Italy's voice called out sickly-sweet through the black, "Spain, what did you do to the _cero_?"

Spain did _not _answer.

"You'll pay for blowing it out, you know."

Oh dios_, he's getting closer! _Spain panicked in his mind as the sound of Italy's footfalls fell across the room.

"You know I'll find you eventually."

_He's getting far too close!_

The sound of a knife gliding over the stone walls only increased the panic.

"Come out, come out wherever you are~!"

Spain mouthed a silent prayer.

"Are –"

A knife came out of nowhere and lodged itself into Spain's hand. The nation bit back a scream.

"You-"

Another knife followed suit and claimed the other hand.

"Here?"

A knife punctured Spain's injured knee, causing him to finally cry out.

Then he felt Italy's fingers gently cup his chin forcing him to look up. Although he couldn't see his face, he could see his violet eyes and white smile, and quite frankly that was enough for him to stop breathing for a second. "You are so cute when you are scared," Italy whispered. "Especially now. Too bad you are not my type."

Spain gulped when he heard that.

"Now let's go make some paint, shall we?"

* * *

_3 Hours Later…_

_(Italy)_

* * *

Italy emerged from the basement bloody but satisfied. He looked down at the full bucket of "paint" happily. Today had been a successful day, Spain was dying downstairs and he had gotten a whole bucket of paint. For _free_.

The telephone rang just then, so Italy set down the bucket and walked over to pick it up. "_Ciao," _Italy greeted happily.

"Italy?" Germany's voice came from the other side.

"Germany!"

"Um, hi. I was wondering something…"

"What is it?"

"If you, um, if you wanted to, um…"

Italy tilted his head to the side curiously. "Are you okay, Germany?"

"_Ja_…doyouwanttogoouttodinnerwithmeonTuesday?" Germany rushed.

Italy froze, he hadn't heard right, had he? There was no way that Germany had asked him on a date. "Pardon, Germany, but I didn't get that..."

A shaky breath came from the other end before, "Do you want to go out to dinner with me on Tuesday?"

Yes, he had heard right. What was he going to do? "...I don't know..."

"O-Oh..."

"Maybe another day?" Italy asked, he didn't like how sad Germany's tone seemed. Besides, he needed allies so he couldn't quite go rejecting people. Speaking of allies...

Germany cut off Italy's thought-train, "Whatever works best for you."

"Would Friday at seven work?"

"_Ja._ I'll pick you up?"

"U-um, why don't we meet at the Piazza?" The Italian asked shakily._  
_

"...Why?" Germany's tone was skeptical.

"It would be an easier meetup, and - and it looks pretty at night..."

"Okay...so see you then?"

"Mhm. _A__rrivederci,_ Germany!"

_"__Auf Wiedersehen_, Italy."

The line went dead and Italy ran shaky, blood-stained fingers through his hair. How was he going to do this on Friday? He was not ready for a relationship! But he needed allies, and it was only just one date.

With Germany.

His best-friend.

..._Who knew Switzerland and Liechtenstein..._The Italian mused, looking out the window. The two seemed like easy targets, he was sure he could get them to back him up. Well, Liechtenstein anyway. Switzy would need an extra push or two. Oh and then there would be Austria and Hungary, those two would probably like to ally with him.

Looking back at the telephone, Italy decided to ring up Liechtenstein.

The phone rang a few times before someone answered. "_Hallo?"_

_"Ciao _Lichtenstein."

"Italy? Why are you calling me?"

"Listen, I need to ask you something..."

* * *

**Translations (No more long phrases to avoid confusion. Thanks **_TheLastofUs _**for pointing that out)**

_**(Spanish)**_

_Italia – _**Italy**

_pendejo – _**motherf****r**

_Oh dios – _**Oh god**

**(**_**Italian)**_

_Mi dispiace _– **I'm sorry**

_cero _**- candle**

_Arrivederci -_ **Goodbye**

_**(German)**_

_Auf Wiedersehen_** - Goodbye**


	4. American AN

**America: THE HERO IS HERE! …Along with England and Germany.**

**Germany: *bored sigh***

**England: *face palm* You git, haven't you already realized that you are **_**not the **__**bloody hero?**_

**America: Ha ha you're so funny Iggy!**

**England: DON'T CALL ME "IGGY"!**

**America: Pfft whatever dude. Anyway, my friend MapleTreeway is really sorry that she hadn't updated this story in like, **_**forever**_**.**

**England: What a slacker.**

**America: I know right! But she just wants me to tell all of ya'll that Writer's Block has been a real biatch to her for this story –**

**England: Excuses, excuses *shakes head disappointedly***

**America: *annoyed* Hey bro?**

**England: …What?**

**America: Can you please just let the hero talk and shut up?**

**England: *offended* Excuse me?!**

**America: You heard what I said!**

**England: *angry* WHY YOU UNGRATEFUL WANKER! I'LL –**

**Germany: WILL YOU TWO JUST STOP FIGHTING?! Maple has asked us to tell her dear readers that she is stuck on the story und that "Cracked" will be on hiatus until further notice! Yet all you do is fight! Mein Gott it's so annoying just to listen to you two!**

**England: *calms down* you're right, Germany. I'm sorry.**

**America: *sheepish grin* Yeah that was kinda childish of us…**

**Germany: Ja, it was. NOW JUST GET ON WITH THE NOTE!**

**America: Two words for you dude: Anger Management. **

**England: *chuckles in his shirt sleeve***

**Germany: *pinches the bridge of his nose***

**America: But yeah, like Germany said, Maple won't be able to update this story for a while because of Writer's Block and also because of school. But she says that she'll post some GerIta one-shots to help get into the groove of writing Hetalia more often. Maybe even some…*blushes and looks away***

**England: What is it, America?**

**America: *coughs nervously* She says that she'll probably also write some R-RusAme…**

**England: RusAme? Is that like Russia and you together?**

**America: Y-Yeah…**

**England: *dissolves into a fit of laughter* Blimey, that's ludicrous! It'll never work!**

**America: *scowls and looks away***

**Germany: *sighs* MapleTreeway also told us to tell you that she really appreciates the support for "Cracked" und that she's extremely sorry for doing this. Hopefully it won't be for too long, but the future is impossible to tell und she doesn't know. However, if any of you have any ideas for the story then she'll gladly take them. All you need to do is put them in your review und if she likes them und thinks it'll help get to the ending she wants, she'll put it in und credit you.**

**America: Long sentence is long, deal with it.**

**England: And that's about it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to cooking class.**

**America: Like that'll ever help.**

**England: Will you just **_**shut the hell up?! **_**It will so help! Pretty soon you'll be dying just to taste my food!**

**America: Whatever man. I gotta go too, I promised to meet up with someone. See ya! *leaves followed by an annoyed Englishman***

**Germany: Idiots. Anyway, Auf Wiedersehen. Until next time. *leaves***


End file.
